My phone buzzes again. Another message.
Are you afraid of me, Little Spider?
I swallow hard, forcing myself to type back, trying to sound braver than I feel.
No.
A minute passes. Then another. I think maybe he’s done. Maybe I called his bluff.
Then the next message comes through.
Liar.
I throw the phone down, my pulse pounding, and pull the blankets tighter around me. It feels childish, hiding under fabric like it could really protect me.
Another message. I can’t help myself—I pick it up.
If you lie to me again, I’ll have to remind you who’s in charge.
My vision blurs, and I squeeze my eyes shut, hoping that when I open them, it’ll all be gone—just a bad dream.
But when I open them, the message is still there, glowing bright and taunting.
A noise outside the window—like a soft tap. My breath hitches, and I force myself to move, crawling to the edge of the bed and pushing the curtain aside just a crack.
Nothing. Just the wind rattling the glass.
I drop back onto the mattress, my heart still racing. I clutch the phone to my chest, curling tighter, trying to block out the creeping, suffocating dread.
The silence is thick—almost too thick. I listen for anything: footsteps, a creak on the stairs, a breath that isn’t mine.
Nothing.
But I know he’s out there. Watching. Waiting.
CHAPTER THREE
RAVEN
Sleep doesn’t come. I lie there in the dark, the room suffocating me, every creak of the old building sending another wave of anxiety crawling up my spine. The phone is still in my hand, screen dark, but I don’t dare put it down. It’s like a lifeline—a threadbare one, but enough to keep me tethered.
My mind runs in circles, thoughts tangled and frayed. Who is he? Why me? The word “play” echoes in my head, sticking like a burr.
My stomach twists, and I force myself to breathe slower, counting the seconds between each inhale. I’m not giving him the satisfaction of breaking. Not yet.
A noise from the hallway—a dull thud. My body locks up, every muscle tense and quivering. I strain to listen, heartbeat loud in my ears. Another thud, softer this time, like someone bumping against the wall.
I creep to the door, pressing my ear against the wood. A low murmur filters through—two voices, one slurred and annoyed.Probably the guy from 3B arguing with his girlfriend again. I ease back, letting out a shaky breath.
I hate that I’m like this—jumping at every sound, half-convinced that he’s just waiting for the right moment to slip inside. I should be braver. I used to be braver.
The phone buzzes again, and I almost drop it. I fumble to unlock the screen, dread pooling in my stomach. Another message from an unknown number.
Why aren’t you asleep, Little Spider?
My hands tremble, and I bite down on the inside of my cheek to keep from screaming. I don’t reply. Maybe if I ignore him, he’ll get bored. Maybe he’ll move on.
The dots appear again—he’s typing. I can’t breathe, can’t think.
